


Best Under Pressure

by Randominity



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-26
Updated: 2012-10-26
Packaged: 2017-11-17 01:43:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/546248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Randominity/pseuds/Randominity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liam likes touching Louis, and discovers that Louis likes being touched.</p><p>
  <i>Louis gives him a considering look out of the corner of his eye when Liam continues to watch him, before pointedly focusing his gaze on the interviewer, and Liam thinks that might be the first time Louis' ever told him to pay attention. Then he thinks about his fingers on the inside of Louis' thigh and wonders if that's what's going on after all.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Best Under Pressure

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [flimsy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/flimsy/pseuds/flimsy) for the encouragement, and to underwaternow and [dangerbears](http://archiveofourown.org/users/dangerbears/pseuds/dangerbears) for beta-reading!

It's their first interview of the day, and Liam is locked in a deadly battle of wills with Louis' elbow. The interviewer is new, a nervous young lad who seems to have taken an interest in Niall, and when Louis had nudged Liam, arching an eyebrow and nodding his chin in Niall's direction, Liam had caught one look at the host's rapturous expression and missed the rest of what the host had been saying.

"But has your accent faded any since you've spent so much time away from home?" he's asking Niall, and Liam's pretty sure he isn't even consulting his notes anymore and this has progressed right on to the speed dating portion of the morning.

"Oh, I don't think he could lose his accent any," Liam says soberly. "Harry does a pretty good Irish accent to keep him in it, don't you?" and nudges Louis right back, digging his elbow into Louis' upper arm.

"It's an all right accent, I suppose," Harry says, in an Irish accent, and the host's face falls, his moment of intimacy with Niall lost. Liam feels a bit sorry for him, and for them, too; he'd appreciate the break from the standard questions, and he has a feeling this host isn't going to stray far from the set list.

Harry takes up the response on how their second album has been received, and Louis nudges him back, bone catching Liam between the ribs in a jab that is too sharp to be ticklish and skitters right past it into pain. He tries not to hiss and puts his arm down protectively between them, and then Louis' elbow catches his funny bone and it's _on_. Liam bends his arm, ready for war, and the two of them slide the cartilage of their respective elbows together, jockeying for dominance, or at the very least, a disruptive yelp of pain. He slips past Louis' elbow and over Louis' forearm and their shoulders collide, wrenching a huff of air out of Louis and forcing him to brace himself with a hand to Louis' chest to stay upright.

He's only vaguely aware of Zayn talking about the demise of the blond streak in his hair, but when he risks a glance at Louis, Louis' gaze is fixed on the host. He slings an arm around Liam's shoulder without looking, taking care to scrub his hand over Liam's hair as he does. Liam ducks his head, giggling, still ticklish at the bristly feeling of it. Louis makes no attempt to hide his satisfied smile.

\-----

It turns into a bit of a blur after their third interview, reminding Liam rather of an assembly line of publicists and hosts coming and going, the boys themselves shifting on the one small sofa. The next interviewer introduces herself and the station she represents, or the network – he can't remember what they have here in America – and Louis' sprawled over his portion of the sofa, slouching, leg draped over both of Liam's.

Louis' gone quieter now, leaned too far back against the arm of the sofa to whisper to Liam, one arm over his stomach as he idly cracks his knuckles, bending the fingers of one hand back with the other. He pulls his heel in to mark the time, knocking Liam's knees together when he does it, and Liam's mid-question, deliberately does not shoot him a questioning look until the next time Louis hooks his heel into the side of Liam's knee and pulls.

Liam puts a hand on Louis' knee and pats his kneecap, rubs his thigh just above the juncture of his knee, and Louis presses his heel into Liam's calf, curls his lip and bares his teeth when Liam looks back over his shoulder at him. "Stop," Liam mouths, and Louis raises his eyebrows and jostles Liam's knees together again. Liam digs his fingers in around Louis' kneecap, which predictably does not make the nudging stop but does earn him a quietly indignant “'Ey!”

By the time the interview is over, Harry is shooting them increasingly distracted looks and has resorted to stretching his collar out to show off one of his tattoos while Liam is doubled over himself with his hand wrapped round Louis' ankle.

"I have a tattoo," Louis contributes, "on this ankle," and he waggles it in Liam's hand. 

\-----

Louis keeps his leg hooked over Liam's while they get started on the next interview, and Liam has given up on trying to restrain him, smoothly slipping Louis' leg off every time he tries to climb onto Liam's lap with it. After a few more attempts Louis flicks Liam in the upper arm with his fingers and then pulls his knee up, placing his foot on the cushion between them like a barrier and sitting up straighter, his side pressed tightly along Liam's body.

He starts swaying his knee into Liam's space to punctuate the odd statement and to jostle Liam's own arms when he talks, and it's less jittery, nervous morning energy now, and more of a lazy afternoon desire for closeness, so when Liam hooks his arm over the inside of Louis' knee to pin it under his armpit, Louis doesn't pull away. It's second nature for Liam now, to integrate Louis' knee into his body language, leaning his palm on his knee and feeling the way it vibrates whenever Louis laughs. He slips the fingers of his other hand into the crease between Louis' thigh and calf and Louis immediately pinches him in, pulling a face and crossing his eyes when Liam glances back at him.

Liam gives him a soft smile back and squeezes Louis' calf gently, sweeping his thumb over the denim on his thigh, and lets his hand slide up and feel the muscle shift under his hand when Niall jostles the sofa, mimicking an Irish jig at the interviewer's request. The rest of the boys are reasonably engaged and taking on more questions, divvying them up among themselves, so with Louis so sedate next to him Liam allows himself to drift, lulled by the rhythm of Harry's speech, the pitch of Niall's voice.

He catches himself with his hand halfway up Louis' thigh when Louis shifts suddenly, jerks his knee in toward himself, and Liam digs his fingers in out of reflex and out of the habit of trying to keep Louis still. Louis shoots him a glance, his smile faltering, and tries to tug his knee inward again, and that's when Liam realises he's been rubbing his hand up and down the length of his thigh, fingertips warm from dragging along the seam in his jeans. Louis gives him a considering look out of the corner of his eye when Liam continues to watch him, before pointedly focusing his gaze on the interviewer, and Liam thinks that might be the first time Louis' ever told him to pay attention. Then he thinks about his fingers on the inside of Louis' thigh and wonders if that's what's going on after all.

Eyeing the host to make sure she's engaged, he slides his hand up the length of Louis' inner thigh again, testing, palm pressing against it to keep Louis from folding it inward and with his fingers curled on the underside. Louis' thigh is taut against his palm, flexing and pushing against Liam's hand, and he has to increase the pressure to keep Louis still, but it's still not like earlier; there's no competitive escalation from Louis, and Liam's mouth goes dry and his gaze darts around the room because it occurs to him that Louis might _like_ this, he might be getting off on this and Liam feels warm all over. He chances a look back at Louis and Louis' avoiding him completely, arms folded loosely over his belly, a slight flush over his cheeks; even Louis' shoulder is curling away from Liam now, so he flexes his fingertips in the firm muscle and tries to coax Louis back his way.

For a moment he wonders what he'd feel right now if he slid his hand all the way down between them, between Louis' thighs, if Louis would be hard against his wrist with his hand against the juncture of thigh and arse, and suddenly Liam wants nothing more than exactly that. He curls his hand round Louis' shin to keep himself from doing it, hugging Louis' knee in as though it were his own, and he feels blood rush to his face and to his cock, and Niall is talking about all the guitar he's played on the album, and Liam wants to pull up his own legs and hide his face behind his knees and ends up curving his back to hide behind Louis' knee instead. All he can think about is how much he wants to put his hand on Louis' dick and see what he does, see what he looks like, hear the sounds he'd make; he wants to be given permission, and he thinks, _oh_. He thinks they might have a problem.

\-----

“I'm next to you, Li,” Louis declares when they enter the radio station for their on-air interview, and although he only has a hand on Liam's shoulder, Liam can feel the warmth of him beside him, his barely-contained agitation. He bumps his knee against Liam under the table when they sit, then ducks his head and looks away, and his hands are folded in his lap and Liam's throat goes dry and he thinks he's done that, made Louis go quiet and he can't quite tell if Louis is thinking or embarrassed or feeling shy because this is his reaction to all three of those things. He reaches under the table and folds his hand over Louis' knee, rubs a circle around the kneecap and then draws his hand back a little over Louis' thigh. He wiggles Louis' leg a little with his hand and Louis doesn't look over, but Liam can see his cheek start to dimple where he's stifling a smile.

Their legs are pressed so tightly together under the table that Liam's hand might as well be on his own thigh, rubbing up and down. Louis' thigh is thicker, wider under his hand, and the way he's doing this without any pretense, touching Louis here where nobody can see because Louis all but asked him to, has Liam noticing these differences between them, puts him on edge. He manages to field the standard questions, hand moving in circles over Louis' thigh, and when Louis taps him on the arm for attention Liam can see he's managed to appropriate a stack of sticky notes and a pen from out of thin air, bending over them to write with a studious look. Liam's hand slides that much farther up Louis' thigh and he leans forward as well, holding position while he reads over Louis' shoulder and sees that he's making labels.

Louis sticks notes with labels on them to the monitors and the microphones and the phone and the lamp, paying half a mind to the interview and interjecting comments and prompts when someone loses a train of thought, but otherwise focused on his chosen task at hand. He writes _@lickingmalik!!!_ and posts the note next to the user's name on their twitter feed, and Liam's fingertips are tingling. His palm is friction-warm from Louis' thigh and his cock has taken interest, like his body knows there's a tease going on and wants him to get on with it. Louis bends over the sticky notes again and this time when Liam looks over his shoulder he writes _LIAM!!_ and Liam feels like he should laugh, like the normal response is to be delighted because Louis is going to stick a label on him like every piece of furniture in the room.

Instead he sucks in a breath and his hand slides the rest of the way up Louis' thigh because he just. He _wants_ , he wants Louis to label him and mark him and he wants Louis, to be Louis'. Louis falters in placing a second underline beneath his name, head bowed over the desk; he moves his hands off the table and for a moment Liam is afraid he's actually gone too far this time, that he's misunderstood horribly and Louis will move his hand and they'll never speak of this again, never touch quite like this again. But Louis reaches just behind him and grabs the sides of his jacket and brings them forward, draping them over his thighs and with them, Liam's hand.

He peels the note off and meets Liam's gaze, blue eyes wide and serious, carefully placing the note on Liam's cheek before letting his gaze drop to the note and then turning away. Liam bites his lip, watching the radio host and he can't even hear what Harry's saying over the rush of blood in his ears, his own pounding heart; he waits until Louis starts writing again and then drags his hand up the crease of Louis' groin, and Louis' legs come together to pin him, determinedly printing more notes. He calmly affixes them to _ZAYN!!!_ and his _QUIFF!!!_ , but when Liam slips his pinky over the swell of Louis' cock, Louis flings the stack of notes past Zayn to Harry in desperation and dips his head, scrubbing his hands over his own face.

Zayn ducks back from the projectile and shoots a quizzical glance at Liam, raises an eyebrow and shrugs, jutting his chin at Louis.

“He's fine,” Liam mouths to Zayn's unspoken question, feeling flush, his trousers tight, and the host interjects, saying,

“What've you got there, Harry? Are we playing catch, or-- what are we doing?” he wants to know.

“We're just labelling stuff,” Harry answers smoothly, always quick to pick up the threads that Louis lays down, and fastens the topmost note ( _CURLY!!_ ) to his own forehead.

Louis straightens back up, touching his quiff self-consciously, and his face is noticeably redder, his expression defiant. “I wrote a label on the next one, too, Harry,” he calls down the table, voice a bit too loud. “You can tell it's for Niall because it says he's Irish.” Beneath his jacket his hand slides up his own thigh, palm ghosting over Liam's hand, uncertain, and then it drops away.

\-----

Louis stays so close to Liam after the interview that they're practically stumbling, the lengths of their bodies pressed together, and when they emerge from the back of the station where their buses are waiting, Louis wraps his arms around Liam from behind and rests his cheek against Liam's shoulderblade. It's nothing he hasn't done countless times before, but right now Louis is hard, he's hard right below the curve of Liam's arse, and all Liam can think is how they still have the ride to the venue, and then the show, and he's grateful for the way his jeans ride low on his hips, grateful for his Superman belt buckle and the way it's the only thing keeping his erection from tenting out.

Once the door has closed behind them Louis lets go of Liam and pushes past everyone into the back lounge, and Liam follows him despite Niall's “What's got into him?” because he knows this isn't just a pretense for Louis to get some time to himself; when Louis wants to be left alone he leaves no ambiguity about it, all loud warnings and prickly body language. When he gets inside, Louis comes up behind him again, raising up on his toes and leaning against him, pressing Liam into the wall with his weight. Liam swallows hard and tries not to push his own hips into the door panel.

"You've been winding me up all day," Louis says, breath hot against the thin material of Liam's shirt. His voice is low and vaguely accusatory, but there's a thread of confusion as well, the unspoken "why?" and Liam never meant to make Louis wonder what he was on about, never meant to keep him guessing, but Liam supposes he didn't know what he meant, himself, maybe not until just now.

"I know," Liam says, twisting in Louis' arms until Louis' grip loosens and lets him spin so they're facing each other, the door to Liam's back. Louis drops his arms and Liam catches his elbows in his hands, keeps them at waist-level, because he doesn't want Louis to stop touching him. He doesn't want to be done touching Louis. "I kind of." He licks his lips. "Liked it, like touching you, and. I didn't want to stop."

"Wh-- I--" Louis shakes his head and Liam can see spots of color bloom on his cheeks. "So are we doing this every day, then?" he asks. "What do we call this new game of yours? 'Louis's funny when he's hard, so let's sexually frustrate him'?"

"No," Liam says, "I didn't mean to--" and he knows as the words come out of his mouth that they're the wrong ones, watches as Louis blinks and a shadow passes across his face. Louis tries to take a step back, but his elbows are caught in Liam's hands and he looks down at them as though he's only just noticed he'd been held.

"Didn't-- mean to," Louis repeats, his lip slightly curled, and Liam rushes to talk over him before his mind takes him to the wrong conclusions, because Louis will finish that train of thought in his head long before Liam's figured out what exactly Louis' thinking.

"Didn't mean to leave you like that, I mean," Liam says quickly. "Like. I meant for us to." He glances down between them and he's not thought this through, but he wants the heat of Louis' body pressed up against him and knows it's the truth. "To finish," he says, and tugs on Louis' elbows, pulling him back in. Louis looks up at him, searching, and Liam lets go of one elbow and slides the palm of his right hand down between them, down the front of Louis' body, his knuckles brushing past his own cock until his fingers can curl around the bulge in Louis' jeans. Louis' lips part around a gasp, his hips bucking slightly into Liam's hand, and Liam says, "I mean it, just let me--"

"Okay," Louis says, and surges up against Liam, straightens his arms and moves his hands round to the back of Liam's shirt, tugging it free of Liam's jeans so he can touch Liam skin to skin. Liam lets go of Louis' other elbow and pulls him even closer by the small of his back, sandwiching the hand he has between them and ducking his head to drag his lips over the side of Louis' neck, mouthing the vein that stands out when Louis tilts his head back and regards him with hooded eyes.

"Sofa," Liam says, and Louis nods before tugging Liam backwards, the two of them staggering until their legs hit the arm of the sofa and they manoeuvre themselves over it, Louis sprawling on his back and Liam scrambling to his knees between his spread legs just long enough for Louis to unfasten Liam's belt and trousers and then lean up to join their mouths.

"We haven't got all day," Louis says, biting at Liam's bottom lip, and loops his arm around Liam's neck and pants into Liam's shirt at his shoulder as Liam squeezes his fingers around the outline of Louis' cock. "I'm so fucking close, Li," he says.

"Yeah?" Liam says, although he thinks he already knew. He wanted to hear Louis say it, though, thinks if they're doing this he needs to know how much Louis wants it.

"I've been," Louis says, rocking his hips up, "thinking about you doing this all day."

Liam leans down over him, keeping enough space between them for him to open Louis' trousers; he gets his hand round Louis' cock at last, slides his fist up the hot hard length of it, and "oh!" Louis says, loudly, before his eyes open wide and he lets go of Liam to clap his hand over his mouth. Liam spares a moment for an alarmed glance over his shoulder at the lounge door for unwanted visitors before turning back and he can see Louis' eyes crinkle at the corners above his hand. "Sorry, sorry," Louis mumbles, giggling into his own skin, and then he's shoving both hands down into Liam's pants, one hand curling round Liam's cock and the other slipping past to his balls, tugging and stroking at him with a hard, fast pace.

The insides of Louis' elbows are bared between them, shoulders drawn in, and he's got his head tilted back, hair not quite brushing the opposite arm of the sofa as his hips roll upward and Liam realises, listening to Louis' laboured gasps for air, that Louis' trying to get him off first, that Louis' so turned on he doesn't think he'll outlast Liam. Liam brings his free hand up under Louis' thigh and squeezes, feeling the muscle tremble under his hand through the denim, and imagines how his bare skin would feel right there, how he might like to bite it while Louis quakes under him. He doesn't bother to fight the surge of arousal at the thought that topples him over the edge, stifling a moan as he comes into Louis' right hand.

There's a knock on the door, and then Niall's voice travels through the panel, saying, "ten minutes to the venue, lads," and they both hold their breaths, wide eyes locked for a painful moment, until they hear his footfalls travelling away, though Louis' beyond the point of stilling his hips, pushing into Liam's hand with his lower lip bitten between his teeth.

It's only a moment after they've heard Niall retreat back down the corridor that Louis sucks in a shocked lungful through his teeth and his eyes squeeze shut as he lets the breath out in stutters, coming in spurts over Liam's fist. His left hand flutters over Liam's hip, pushing feebly at him until he relents and draws back, sitting back on his heels, his hand wet. "So," Liam says, jerking his clean thumb over his shoulder at the door behind him.

"That was lucky," Louis breathes, dazed.

Liam laughs, suddenly elated at what they've just done, at how easy it was to fall into it after how uncertain he'd been. He should have known. He should have touched Louis like this the first time he laid his hand on the inside of Louis' thigh and felt Louis turn his torso in toward him. He'll take this now, though. "Lucky, yeah," he says.

"D'you suppose we could maybe skip over the other bits next time?" Louis says, struggling to prop himself up on his elbows, and Liam scoots back on the sofa to give him room, tucking himself in one-handed and then plucking a tissue box from off the X-Box stand to wipe his hand off on. "Where I'm hard all day and I don't know what exactly you're on about?"

"I don't know," Liam tells him, and he's more interested in the fact that Louis said there would be a next time. He's grinning like a fool and he knows it, smudges an errant drop of come into the skin of Louis' stomach with his thumb and then tugs Louis' shirt down over it, handing over the box of tissues for Louis to sort himself out. "We could think of it as foreplay. I mean, be honest; have you ever come so hard in your life?"

"I just don't think we should count out Niall making my life flash before my eyes while I was on the brink as a factor," Louis says.

"So you'll agree we need some excitement between us," Liam says, sitting down properly next to Louis as Louis sits up fully and swings his feet off the sofa and onto the floor, stretches his legs out. "I'm telling you, I'm pretty sure waiting for it made it better."

"I've agreed to no such thing," Louis tells him, nudging his shoulder.

"I'll show you," Liam says, off Louis' disdainful expression. "Come to mine tonight after the show?"

"You're not going to wind me up during the show, are you?" Louis' voice is flat and Liam isn't sure whether he's objecting or merely trying to prepare himself.

"I promise I'll keep the winding up to the bed tonight," Liam swears.

\-----

“If you would just put your hands on me, I'll make it worth your while,” Louis tells him, slapping his palms into the bedsheets in frustration. He's been alternating between threats and promises ever since they stumbled into Liam's hotel room, tugging at one another's clothes, still damp-haired from their hurried showers at the venue. And all right, Liam hadn't strictly stuck to his vow to keep from turning Louis on during the show, but he reckons even the friendliest of pats on the bum could cause a bit of anticipation given recent turns of events.

“I think you had more patience when you had your clothes on earlier,” Liam says. He fans his hands out over the soft flesh of Louis' stomach, thumbs brushing over his navel and into the trail of hair below it. His mouth is poised over the tip of Louis' cock, and he makes sure to breathe over it every time he talks, likes the way it bobs a bit the harder Louis gets.

“So, hey,” Louis says softly, rubbing his hand over the top of Liam's head. “Up here,” and Liam goes, inches up the length of Louis' body and kisses him, letting Louis loop his arms behind Liam's head and brush his fingers over the buzzed hair. Liam rubs his palms over Louis' nipples until they pebble up and then tilts Louis' head back with a hand to his jaw so he can deepen their kiss, sweeping inside Louis' mouth until Louis has no choice but to suck on his tongue, and Liam's arousal is thrumming inside him, this slow ache that makes him feel in sync with Louis' pulse racing beneath his fingers.

Louis darts a hand down to touch himself and Liam breaks their kiss, gasping, to slap Louis' hand away. He swallows Louis' whine of frustration and denies him the chance to buck up into Liam's hip for friction. “Well, if you're gonna be that way--” Louis groans and puts both hands on Liam's head, fingers scrabbling through the short hairs to grasp on something. “Would you just--” he pulls and then pushes, sliding his hands down to Liam's shoulders, and Liam goes, moving again down Louis' body and slipping his hands beneath Louis' bare thighs. He squeezes them, fingertips dragging over the dusting of hair and digging into firm muscle as Louis shifts them, spreading and trying to push his cock into Liam's face.

Liam laps at the head at first, swirling pre-come around the tip and wrenching a strangled sound from Louis before he dips his head and takes Louis in halfway, tries not to gag as he goes down that extra inch and brings up a hand to stroke at the base while he holds him there, keeping the suction going. Louis' moaning then, taking shallow, gasping breaths and the tension in his thighs has them quivering against Liam and he knows Louis' fighting not to thrust up into his mouth even as Liam can feel his cock swell slightly under his tongue, so close.

He pulls off to mutter, “properly wound up, are you?” and fits his mouth back over him in time for Louis to snap his hips up and come into his mouth with a cry. He swallows everything, sucking until Louis bats weakly at his head, and when he climbs back up the length of Louis' body, Louis is still struggling to catch his breath, gaze fixed on the ceiling. Liam threads his fingers thoughtfully through Louis' fringe, pushing it up and off his sweaty forehead and smoothing his thumb over the skin there, and thinks to say something about how amazing he looks right now, or how much more of Louis Liam would like to touch before he makes him come again, or how much hotter it is that he made Louis wait, how much hotter it is that Louis let him.

He lets Louis push him over and onto his back in a sudden burst of energy, staring down at him with wild eyes dark with want. “What _is_ it about that?” he wonders, reaching down between them to feel Liam's cock, hard, and start stroking. “It can't just be foreplay.” He skims his palm over the head of Liam's cock and Liam sucks in his breath sharply, feels the slick slide of pre-come follow the path of Louis' hand after.

“What if it is, though?” Liam asks him, choking back a moan. “I don't know, why's it have to be anything?”

“But what does it do for _you_?” Louis wants to know, stroking him properly now, focused and determined. “I just don't get it, I don't--” he shrugs and drops his head to glance down between the length of their bodies, and Liam's gaze follows the jut of his shoulderblade down the line of his arm as it works over him.

“It's not just you I'm winding up, Lou,” Liam manages, because Louis' twisting his hand on the upstroke now, like he wants to get Liam off in a hurry again, and he really, really doesn't have to; there's no question whether Liam will be getting off soon. Louis looks back up at him, and there's a momentary uncertainty on his face that Liam _gets_ now, he gets that it's maybe seemed like Liam was doing all this for Louis' benefit and he's not considered until now that Louis feels like he needs to repay him or something. So he tries again, tries to make it clear for Louis. “I didn't just do it for you-- I did it for both of us.”

Louis holds his gaze steady while he pumps his fist over Liam, and it's all Liam can do not to come now, because that would really possibly spoil the moment and he absolutely needs Louis to understand this, to grasp what he's saying. So when Louis' eyes narrow and his lips part, Liam knows what he's going to say a split second before he hears, “Replay.”

“I didn't just do it for you,” Liam gasps, “I did it for both of us,” and something strange flickers over Louis' face as he says,

“Replay in my mouth,” and fits his lips over Liam's and Liam moans something he hopes resembles words against Louis' tongue and sweeps a hand over the small of Louis' back, the other curling into a fist in the soft hair at the back of his head as he comes all over Louis' hand.

“God damn it,” Louis says, breaking their kiss to stare down at his own hand in dismay as he continues to jerk Liam's cock, wringing the aftershocks out of him. He wipes at his mouth absently with the back of his other hand. “I really wanted to blow you.”

“Told you,” Liam pants, grinning now, because Louis' looking down at him with a fondness that makes his heart clench. “I told you it wasn't just you getting all wound up.”

“You did,” Louis agrees, tipping his forehead to Liam's until they're pressed together, breathing into each others' faces.

It's some time before they come down, dozing and cooling off until they wake with goosepimples forming on their skin and scramble under the covers to curl around each other again. Louis' draped himself over Liam's body, one leg thrown over both of Liam's, and it's just as familiar as any interview, any casual moment they've done while fully clothed. He can feel himself dropping off, limbs heavy and Louis' breath coming slow and steady over his chest, and he wants to tell Louis how much he loves this, how it makes him feel when Louis looks at him like he wants this, wants him; but he doesn't say any of those things. He says, “you know, we've got loads of interviews tomorrow,” softly, into Louis' temple.

“Mmm-hmm, loads,” Louis mumbles in agreement, eyes closed. After a moment he goes tense and then snorts a laugh into Liam's chest. “Sorry, I'm-- so tired,” he says, and Liam giggles tiredly and holds him, hooks his chin over the top of Louis' head. Louis relaxes in his arms and Liam sweeps his hand up and down Louis' body, warming his skin with touch, just because he can.


End file.
